The Art Series
by DannyPhanto fan
Summary: A Series of intraconnected one-shots where Gwen is assigned sketches/projects for her art class and how each makes her ponder her life and the events in it.
1. Chapter 1

_**The Art Series**_

_**Disclaimer: I don't own anything but the plot and the character of Ms. David.**_

_**Rating; K+-T**_

_**Author's Note: I am NOT an artist so you won't see any illustrations for this series from me. But if there are artists who read this story and who want to take a crack at illustrating for it then you have my permission but please drop me a link to the work.**_

**Part One**: **Stranger**

_**Rated: K+**_

Ms. Amissa David had just finished explaining the newest project to her Art 2 students and saw mostly confused and blank expressions. The project did indeed sound greatly difficult and yet so simple. They were improving their skills at drawing the human body and had been set to drawing a stranger, either someone who they had noticed in a public place or that they thought up off the top of their heads.

Only one set to work immediately; she had always been quick to understand the tasks they were set. Only her personality overrode her rare red hair in brightness.

The man took shape on her page but then she paused, blinking perplexedly before she realized that he wasn't a stranger to her. A light flush dusted her cheeks as she scowled at him, turning her pencil upside down and erasing before started over. Minutes in she realized it again and again erased him, more vigorously this time. The third time she sketched that all too familiar jaw-line she actually cursed, in Plumber code no less.

How dare he invade her normal zone of school? Gwen Tennyson then slumped; was she so lovesick, over one Kevin Levin, that her mind would produce nothing but his image when she thought of a humanoid? Closing her eyes she cleared her mind and tried once more. It was ineffective.

Slamming down her pencil, she put her head in her hands and groaned. Then she popped back up, a grin gracing her lips. Loophole! She saw a loophole. But then she deflated; if she could use that loophole then that meant… she frowned and sighed but picked up her pencil and began sketching once more. She knew his body well, having bandaged it far too many times to count. She had seen everything he had and vice versa because of work-related injuries. This knowledge was both an advantage and disadvantage.

Within the next half-hour she worked almost frenziedly, muscles and bones taking form by her hand; lines and angles being created.

She spent extra time on his eyes even though she would never be able to do them justice. Kevin Levin had had a hard life, made harder by her family, and so had learnt to keep his emotions and thoughts to himself, off his face. But she knew; his eyes were windows. They revealed much more than he probably wanted them to, but she thanked the stars for the glimpses.

His face looked much older than it was; lines of stress, lines of fear, and scars, from only he knew what, defined his features. They were so faint that from a distance one wouldn't see them but they were there; she had seen them, felt them. His nose had been broken multiple times; one could feel it in the bone and cartilage. His lips were slightly scarred, she'd bet from being busted so many times, and thin. There was a faint scar running jaggedly around his neck; she knew someone had tried to kill him by slitting his throat, once upon a time.

Broad shoulders, powerful even by alien standards for a set their size, took shape and she wondered just how many times she had hidden her face in them, scared or saddened by the atrocities they saw daily. Biceps, gently bulging with muscle, came next. A scar was on his left bicep, gained from saving her from a dagger to the back while she was otherwise occupied in battle; how many times had he saved her life thus far? The scar was bright reddish pink against the startling white of his un-tanned skin but it was healed. His hands were large and calloused, from both Plumber duty and work on his beloved car. But they could be gentle, supporting when need be; she knew this from personal experience and yet they still surprised her with the carefulness with which he handled her.

His torso was the most abused section of his body; bearing so many scars and healed wounds that she thought it a miracle he survived them all without any help or treatment. The end of the school day bell rang but she stayed seated as her peers rushed out, focused on her project.

Amissa David watched her favorite pupil, knowing that something unique was happening.

His legs, also powerful even by their abnormal standards, formed easily under her guidance. They held nothing unique to him; he was neither especially fast nor slow; he was not a star football player or martial artist.

A half-hour after the bell rang she was finally finished; smiling she brushed the eraser bits away and signed the bottom right hand corner.

Then she realized the class was empty, looking around she saw Ms. David. And then she looked to the clock, jumping up with a cry of alarm. But then she calmed, walking over to confidently hand in her art.

"Gwen, wait," Ms. David called as she recognized the subject of her student's work, "the assignment was strangers…"

The redhead, pulling on her coat, didn't miss a beat as she replied, sadly, "There is more than one way for someone to be a stranger to someone else…" the door opened and in came Kevin Levin. "What's the hold-up?" the young man demanded irately, though both women could detect an edge of both relief and concern to his voice.

"Nothing Kev," Gwen replied with a small smile as she shouldered her bag, "Just got a bit too into a project and lost time. We need to pick up Ben?"

"Nah, practice remember?"

"Right…Bye Ms. David…" and they left, now bickering almost causally over how to spend their cousin free afternoon.

Amissa David looked to the page she held again and shook her head, saddened by her young friend's plight with the young man.


	2. Chapter 2

**Part Two: Inklings**

_**Rated: K+**_

The next day Gwen was handed back her work, along with a pack of professional inking pens. "Color him." Amissa ordered; Gwen sighed but nodded and set to work. The strands of black he inherited from his father, the great Plumber Devlin Levin. The redhead didn't know where her comrade had gotten his eyes but she had this odd, nagging feeling that they were from Mrs. Levin.

Oh how she hated this unknown woman. Kicking a child, her own child, to the streets or just standing by and watching as someone else did so was an irredeemably evil act.

Now granted Gwen didn't know the exact circumstances, as a rule Kevin never told anyone anything of real value about his formative years, but she had been able to piece together a few likely scenarios. Domestic abuse was a very likely factor; perhaps the new husband had been a spousal abuser and thus saw the young Kevin as a freak with freaky powers, competition, a danger and/or a reminder of how evil he really was and so had sought to get rid of the boy.

The warm browns were often made cold but she had seen them display several emotions, emotions that ran the entire emotion spectrum.

His skin was tanned, with the scars he bore being a lighter shade. The calluses of his hands were a shade or two darker.

Quickly she added his usual outfit; soft blue flannel and a near black undershirt. She missed his regular black shirt and often wondered why he changed style but oh well. But then again she had changed her style…

His jeans were of a muted original wash; jeans were so much better for active duty officers such as they were. She wondered how many pairs he had gone through before she taught him how to sew.

Now that was a fun memory, her lips curved into a smile just thinking about it. But he had a strange aptitude for sewing…paradox thy name was Kevin Levin.

His combat boots were the last item; scuffed and dirty, they were probably the last vestige of his original outfit and thus of sociopathic Eleven.

Again the bell had rung long before she was done but still she paused, something was missing… a grin showed up again as she decided what was missing. Another half hour passed before she turned in the completely inked picture. Just as he did the day before, he came looking for her and just as she did the day before she handled his irritableness with calm and efficient care.


	3. Chapter 3

**Part Three: Antithesis **

_**Rated: T**_

"Gwen," Amissa stated the next day, "Since you're ahead of the schedule I'm going to have you do an interim project. I want you to give everything you hate, everything that disgusts you a human form…"

"Right." And so Gwen began sketching. Her antithesis took a recognizable shape almost immediately. Charmcaster; blargh.

She wasn't stupid; she had realized they had many frightening similarities. A thirst for power was the one that scared her the most. Power corrupts, absolute power corrupts absolutely. She thirsted for power to aid those in need; Charmcaster thirsted for selfish desires, selfish things. It was a very fine line to walk; anything could turn one to the Dark Arts. Gwen knew this from personal encounters.

Sucking the power from that witch had been, for want of a non-punny word, simply _**magical**_. The awe-inspiring, empowered feeling as the magic entered her body was wonderful. She had wanted more; had wanted to track down Charmcaster's evil sorcerer uncle, the being known only as Hex. She had wanted to track down every evil creature her team had ever faced and sap the power from them all.

Such was the allure of the Dark. The freedom to take what you want; no rules, no apologies. The freedom to be selfish and vengeful.

Charmcaster was a prime example of this; using her powers to hurt innocents, to manipulate anything to her favor. She was the stereotypical Libby, the type of person who would be at the top of any social pyramid and would treat those of lower standings like dirt.

Gwen, on the other hand, used her powers for good. She was not totally unselfish, she could admit that she was a flawed being and did on occasion use her powers for personal gain but all the good she did made what she did kind of okay. Because when she used magic for personal gain it was never at the expense of another's well being and when she found out it did she undid what she could and compensated the affected for what she couldn't.

Charmcaster was disarmingly pretty but vicious; she was kind of plain but kind and helpful…She was done sketching and looked up, only to sigh, the room was empty of students as had happened the days prior. And, as before, Kevin entered the room just as she grabbed her bag to leave, this time commenting, "Maybe Paradox should reset your watch…"

Gwen rolled her eyes but smiled, replying playfully, "Nah, old loon's too fast or slow. I'd be running a century early or one late…"

"C'mon, Benji's busy so we got a free afternoon." He had placed a hand to the space between her shoulder blades and guided her out the door.


	4. Chapter 4

**Part Four: Glamour **

_**Rated: T**_

The next day she started filling in the colors of her opposite. Silvery hair; how ironic, as silver or white traditionally denoted forces of good. But then again dark blues and purple often symbolized evil. That self-absorbed saunter she walked with didn't help; she dripped egotism.

A smirk was always present on the thrice damned witch's face, unless she was pouting or pissed. A true femme fatal for any male prey.

The pen snapped in half, startling her; she had let her anger get the better of her. She held it together and repaired it, using magic. Ms. David's lilies, expertly grown and having a prominent place beside the biggest window of the class as to soak up more sun, wilted turning brown. The Anodite hybrid blinked, her eyes growing sadder, and she focused to pump some manna back into the innocent flora. Nobody saw this.

Locking any feelings behind a mental Fort Knox, she continued. Hourglass figure, swaying hips, and seductive smile that promised so much; just like the Angler fish, tempting her meals with false bait…and once it was too late for escape she lunged, gobbling up her victim whole. And then, once full and self-satisfied, she would slink off, giggling softly only to lash out again when ever she chose so.

The utility belt only accentuated the bait.

And then the magic; like the vain, evil enchantress of folklore she'd promise wealth, love, even cures to win you over and then, once you fulfilled your side of the bargain, she'd do as she said, at some wicked angle for her own perverse pleasure.

And if you refused to bow, refused to follow, she'd make you an unfeeling and unthinking minion by way of her magic.

Like Morgan Le Fay of Arthurian legend, Charmcaster was vindictive and cruel; completely offsetting that perfectly formed body of hers…

(She probably stole that as well now that Gwen thought about it. She had looked far older the first round or two; her new body was too young. Oh god…if she stole that body where did the poor victim's soul go?)

She finished just as the bell rang and handed her work to the teacher before grabbing her bag and literally running out at top speed, leaving Ms. David to blink bemusedly as the door thudded shut.


	5. Chapter 5

**Part Five: Fear Itself **

_**Rated: T**_

"Show me your greatest fear." was her next piece of busy-artwork as she was still ahead of everyone else.

She chewed her bottom lip as she thought; fear was nothing new to her mind. Being a Plumber meant always having fears; they weren't fearless creatures, but they powered through the fears to get the job done.

Fear of death. That one was a natural given for most sentient creatures. The fact that in a literal second you could go from living, breathing, thinking, feeling and the next be non-existent was hard to accept; even with a belief in some type of afterlife it was hard to accept. The fact that they were forced to swallow this fact over and over again didn't help matters…they just pushed these thoughts aside.

Fear of losing a loved one. This was the second largest; knowing that, because of the enemies they made, their families and friends might one day die. Knowing that when you start a mission with a certain number of comrades that the higher the number the higher the probability that they all won't make it back [Alive. Alive or dead, no Plumber was left behind for the enemy to desecrate unless there was no other option.]

Fear that if you died your family and friends wouldn't find out what happened and thus get closure.

Fear of torture [although some of them were just too kinky to be truly tortured if truth be told].

Fear of dishonoring the badge. Plumber honor was an unwritten code; a Plumber was his honor and if he shamed the badge the consequences could be dire. Without his honor a Plumber was a joke; a piece of filth, vermin. And Plumbers who inherited their badges had more to live up to. To shame an inherited badge was to shame the family name. Her team had inherited their Plumber statuses.

And then there were the fears unique to her team:

Fear that the Omnitrix would go into self-destruct mode again and that they wouldn't be able to stop it this time around.

Fear that the Omnitrix would fall into the wrong hands, again.

Fear that any one of them would become brainwashed and crazy and take out the other two.

Fear that they'd go nuclear with their powers, in conjunction with each other.

Fear that because of their Special Ops-like missions they'd bring the apocalypse raining down upon the fragile, little, backwater planet called Earth.

And then were her personal fears. Not the petty stuff like arachnophobia or claustrophobia but actual gut-wrenching dreads.

The selfish fears were quite simple:

Fear that she'd lose herself to her power, to her heritage.

Fear that she'd go the way of Charmcaster; giving into the Dark Arts.

Fear that she'd go supernova because of her power.

Fear that eventually she'd be all alone; having outlived everyone and everything she ever knew or loved, except for Verdona.

Fear that this would drive her crazy.

Fear that she was already crazy.

Fear because she found she didn't care about her sanity all that much anymore.

Those were her fears for herself; her fears for her future, her well being. She wished they were the only ones.

Fears, they were both her friends and her enemies:

She felt fear that she may one day lose her cousin to madness caused by his near God-like duties.

Fear that this may split the family.

Fear that she may lose her Plumber grandfather to his duties one day.

Fear that the family wouldn't find out how or why.

Fear that her human friend, her fully human friend and her cousin's girlfriend, may lose her life to something the team had caused or done.

Fear that this would be the final straw on the camel's back in regards to said cousin's sanity.

Fear that said cousin would declare himself a god and reap unspeakable horrors upon the universe.

Fear that he wouldn't be savable.

Fear that she'd have to finish him off; put him out of his misery.

Fear that her other comrade, her best friend, Kevin Levin, would fall too far back into his old ways to be redeemed.

Fear his powers would go wonky again.

Fear that this would destroy whatever little mental stability he had.

Fear that nothing would be able to help him this time around

Fear that…

She nodded with understanding, finally finding her greatest fear; although as she thought about it now she wasn't so surprised.

His hulking frame was sketched; its image forever burned into her most haunting of memories. Then came the limbs, two sets of arms; the bottom set being almost canine-like with their fur and paws. The first upper arm was of magma, fiery and destructive in and of itself. The second was living crystal, mutable in shape and structure. Insect wings sprouted from the being's shoulder blades; somehow they had managed to lift the creature into flight.

Spindly thin legs supported the massive weight, ending in balls so to speed as was the species advantage. A tail matched them, giving stability and turning power to such a biological mash-up.

The face, the face was quite terrifying. Four eyes, one on a stalk and two turned to lay on their side. A gaping mouth, with small fangs, more likely to curse you to the deepest fieriest pits of hell than to say anything else…and human hair. Today she watched the clock closely, even beginning to shade in the picture as she wanted anxiously for the bell to ring and then turning it in the moment she could.

Shaking her head to clear her thoughts, she left her teacher wondering about her sanity.


	6. Chapter 6

**Part Six: Lava Lamps **

_**Rated K+**_

"Show me who you are on the inside."

She blinked before nodding. Sitting down, outside for privacy, she summoned her manna and put her hands to the paper, transforming the energy into ink on the page.

Colors bled out of her fingertips in abstract ways, the painting seemingly having no rhyme or reason to its madness. The colors closer to the edges were dark but each shade became lighter as she advanced towards the center. The center itself stayed pure white. She blinked again. This had been too quick, too easy and then she noticed forms and shapes in the swirling mess of color. They were indistinct but they were there. Alien symbols, alien languages.

They told a story about a (well she wasn't exactly sure on the translation of the symbol) goddess trapped in a prison of flesh, blood, and bone and stuck on a lower plane of existence than her true home. But the (there was that confusing symbol again) goddess was happy?

Odd. And then in the center more writing appeared but she couldn't decipher it. And her badge couldn't (or wouldn't) either.

But she shook her head and went to turn it in.


	7. Chapter 7

**Part Seven: ****Manekineko**

_**Rated: K+**_

"Right, you missed the week before Halloween. There was an assignment due; create a costume design and pick a side."

Well that was easy.

Lucky Girl began to take shape and she began to chuckle; in many cultures the cat was a source of good luck. Cats were also seen as graceful, mean, and stealthy.

She knew her alter ego would be seen as a Catwoman knock-off, especially since Lucky Girl had become a reconnaissance form; sometimes she was even sent in to filch things! The utility belt she wore held the usual thief tools, Plumber thief tools; a laser skeleton key, a lock-pick, a length of unbreakable rope, a miniature cloaker, a glass cutter, and other such things for when Anodite powers didn't cut it. But she was definitely a good guy. She followed the laws and rules as much as she could and still get the job done.

There was a small satchel attached to her belt, holding golems that would grow to gargoyle size once activated. It was a bit of magic stolen from Charmcaster. She preferred wolf and tiger golems to actual gargoyles or Olmec style creatures.

A dagger was also sheathed at her hip, used for blood rituals and carving as well as carcass cleaning. And killing; strictly for survival though, as in hunting for food and such when in a wilderness scenario.

Even with magic at her disposal she preferred to do some things by hand, and killing was one of them. Then she realized that she should have a long-range muggle weapon and quickly decided to yet again borrow an idea from Catwoman. There was a western shop in town; they'd probably had a bullwhip or cat-o'-nine tails for sale.

He was such a horrible influence on her.

High stilettos. Skin-tight leather bodysuit. Cat mask. In most ancient cultures cats were regarded as having a supernatural power of some sort and so it was only fitting.

Putting down her pencil she began inking.

Purple. In this case purple was neutral; being comprised of both red and blue, emphatic 'good guy' colors. It was also the color of her Anodite self. Bonus.

Her redhead was also pretty unique in the town; red hair, actual red hair like hers, was pretty uncommon amongst Americans. But, unfortunately, the more she used magic the more her hair was turning silver. Perhaps that was natural but she couldn't know for sure. That reminded her, she needed to go get another bottle of dye, her hair was starting to lighten and she couldn't let the boys know about it.

Once again the bell had rung before she was finished, this time she heard it and pulled up her hood before continuing to work. Another half-hour passed before she was done and could turn it in happily. Just as before Kevin came looking for her, "This's getting old."

"You'll survive," she told him with a Cheshire grin, leaning forward to whisper it in his ear.

He gulped and nodded, watching her closely as she left and quickly following after her.

However, unbeknownst to Gwen, Amissa was slowly compiling a binder of her artwork and was hoping that somehow she could figure out how to help her.


	8. Chapter 8

**Part Eight: The Cake Is A Lie**.

_**Rated: K+**_

"Alright. You're still waiting aren't you?"

Gwen nodded, "Yes, sorry…"

"It's okay; just show me what you might look like in ten to twenty years."

"Fine."

Again this would be easy as she had met herself from ten to twenty years into the future while she was ten. She began sketching as she took a walk down memory lane. Though now as she thought about it something worried her; as she had met her older self and Ben's older self, but there had been no hide nor hair nor even a mention of their version of Kevin. She knew there could be several innocent reasons for this; he could have been on a mission and they didn't dare mention him because in the present, her present while age ten, he was a megalomaniac stuck in the Void. Perhaps they all just had gone separate ways and again they didn't dare mention him because of the aforementioned reasoning etc etc.

But then the bad reasons bit at her mind. Maybe he had gone back to being a criminal; maybe he was MIA on a mission; maybe he was dead.

Dead. Dead. _**DEAD**_.

The word echoed in her mind. He could have been dead in the future, could be destined to die in the near future.

She choked back a sob, quickly getting excused for the restroom. She headed to the restroom before taking an abrupt turn and hightailing it to the empty soccer field where, once there, she began screaming, "_**PARADOX**_" over and over again until the time-traveler appeared.

"Gwendolyn, what happened?" Paradox knelt before the teen, putting his hands on her shoulders and looking her in the eyes with much concern.

Quickly, composing herself slightly as not to seem too pathetic to an ally, she explained everything in a rush and why she was so upset.

The old man let out a sigh of relief, "Gwendolyn, be assured that he doesn't die or turn back to criminal doings…"

"He doesn't?" her voice was weak but joyous.

"No he doesn't," Paradox had a smile and there was a twinkle in his eyes, "he goes on to be a great Plumber, much like his father, and does many numerous good deeds that benefit the whole universe for eons. What you saw, Gwendolyn, was a possible future but the moment you and Ben accepted his help and then his friendship you two rendered it obsolete. In that future he was your personal arch nemesis for things that will no longer occur. When you and Ben teamed up with him you changed not only your future, Ben's future, or his but many, many more which you will never know of…Not to mention Devlin's…" this last bit was said offhandedly and under the breath so she was sure she shouldn't've heard it.

"Devlin?" she asked, worriedly.

"Now, now, I can't spoil everything for you." He chuckled, pulling out his watch, "now you, young lady, must get back to class. And leave worrying about you three's futures to me, savvy?" he reprimanded her gently; it was rare that she went to pieces over something out of her control.

"Yes sir."

"Good, toot-ta-loo." And he disappeared. She went back to class, drying her tears with her sleeve and beginning to laugh at herself, wondering exactly how many times Paradox had gone through that routine.

She got back to class and resumed working, with renewed confidence. She didn't bothered to add color, just shading. She turned it in just as Kevin came to get her, the bell had just rung.

When she saw him she couldn't stop herself, she threw her arms around him and squeezed tightly.

"What happened?!" he demanded worriedly, grabbing her by her biceps to pull her away from himself so he could look her over. He growled when he noticed the tear-tracks.

"Nothing," she replied quietly, "I just needed a hug."

"Liar. What happened?"

"Nothing we need to worry about," she broke free and grabbed her bag, "C'mon, we got duty tonight."

"Right, right." And they left, though there was one of his arms looped about her waist.


	9. Chapter 9

**Part Nine: Genes and Sparks**

_**Rated: T**_

"Alright Gwen, I guess you can start on the next project. You must draw the hypothetical children of you and your 'stranger'. You must draw at least one boy and one girl and they cannot be younger than thirteen years old."

The student gaped, "You can't be serious…"

"Very."

"Alright."

She pulled out a notebook and a strange book, muttering in tongue as she began drawing various Punnett squares, beginning to calculate genetic combinations and probabilities.

Of all the lousy damnable projects to be assigned…if he found out she would never be able to face him again… she snapped to attention, eyes clenching shut to hide her pink powered eyes…

_Fear clenched her heart, as well as joy as she looked at the little plus sign._

Gwen of the present was released from this strange flash and she gasped; this was going to hurt, her overactive imagination was going to make sure of it. A tear rolled down her cheek and hit the paper.

These flashes came to her every half hour, on the dot, and each one wounded her more than the last.

And yet she found herself waiting anxiously for each; after all, poison could taste sweet to even the victim. They progressed in chronological order; she was sure of it as with each she grew bigger and felt heavier. And it was most probably that which hurt the most; the fact that in each burst she could feel the child she 'carried' growing, becoming stronger, more viable. It would never be real.

And Kevin, Kevin was the father of her child and he was so _**happy**_. She had never seen him so happy in real life. She had no doubt he'd be a good dad, if he'd trust himself enough. He had such low self-esteem about his social skills.

She was preparing herself for the final one; it was going to be painful, she knew. She had felt everything in these visions and there was only one natural way a baby could enter the world, it stood to logic that she'd experience the wondrous miracle of birthing a child.

_She was heavy. She felt a slight thump to her abdomen wall. Putting a hand to the spot she smiled with happiness. He'd be a strong boy._

She came back to reality, a hand to the exact same spot. She moved it and shook her head to clear it and continued to sketch. A boy; a son. One who would never really exist.

At eleven o' clock that night she sat bolt right in bed, her eyes pink. For eighteen hours, really just a minute or two in real time, she suffered horrible pain. The Gwen of real life bit down on her pillow, her body contorting with each phantom pain, as she was beginning to scream along with her imagined self. It was the longest, most horribly painful two minutes of her life. She felt everything; she felt her chest rising and falling as she huffed for breath, she felt her abdomen muscles clenching along with her uterus as killer contractions hit her, she felt herself breaking Kevin's hand as he held hers, she felt the child sliding through the birth canal and felt the relief, joy as her baby was born.

And she heard everything; she heard Cooper instructing her, she heard Kevin encouraging her, she heard herself screaming and cursing with each new wave of pain and finally she heard her son cry upon hitting the cold, fresh air of life outside the womb.

She came out of the vision and released her pillow from her death grip and her bite and sat up. She felt oddly empty. The muscles of her torso twitched every few seconds. Her whole body ached and she was exhausted. Tears began falling; she hadn't even gotten to hold him, to see him. She sniffled, the logical part of her brain stepping in; it was probably best, after all she was already far too attached to this figment of her imagination for the good of her sanity. But it would haunt her for the rest of her life.

She stood up and moved to her desk where she continued to sketch, not wanting to sleep, making a rough approximation of what would go onto the canvas. She was sure that her hypothetical kids by Kevin would have inherited his black hair and brown eyes. His colors were so much more common than her red and green. She had gone through her albums, from the first summer with the watch, and pulled out one of her very few photographs of a human Kevin at eleven years old. It was kind of a shock; she hadn't remembered him being as emaciated as he was in the picture. His eyes had been sunken into his skull and the skin under them discolored. The rest of him waxy and pale, he didn't get too much sun as he lived underground during that phase of his life. But she used this photograph as a reference point along with one of herself at thirteen. With gentle strokes of her pencils she drew the two children. The boy of the painting would be fifteen and the girl was thirteen. She chuckled, imagining the hell Kevin's kids would raise. She felt sorry for whatever town they grew up in. But, then again, Tennysons were no pushovers either.

Soon it was time for her to ready for school and, at seven-thirty AM exactly, the telltale green car pulled up to the curb.

"What's the matter?" the driver asked as she slid into her seat.

"Nothing," she replied; she'd never tell him about her fantasies.

"Liar, liar," he chided her gently, "what's wrong?"

She should've known that she couldn't lie to him.

"Seriously Kev, it's nothing."

"Why won't you tell me?"

"Because it's my problem and you can't do anything about it anyways…"

He growled, unhappy that he couldn't help her.

She bit her lip, sighing, "Hey Kev, ever thought about having kids?"

He slammed on the breaks, skidding to a screeching stop, throwing her against her chest and lap belts and then the back of her seat; anger rolling off him in tsunamis, nearly bowling her over with the power of them. He took deep breaths, struggling not to snap at her, as his hands tightened around the wheel, his knuckles turned white, before he asked, "Who?"

"Wha—?"

"Who is he?"

"What're you talking about?" she was utterly confused. He looked to her and she saw that he looked as if he had been mortally wounded; heartbreak was in his eyes.

"Who's the guy you slept with? Who knocked you up?" he reached into the central console and withdrew some sort of gun and an ammo barrel which he snapped into the gun with an ominous _**click**_ sound, "Tell me; I'm gonna kill 'im!"

And he was dead serious; something, someone, had dared touch what was his and only his; it was a transgression that couldn't be left unpunished. No one was to touch Gwen Tennyson, intimately, but Kevin himself. He'd take care of the offending asshole and then he'd help her with the guy's mistake. Oh yes, they'd never find the body of this newfound enemy… His eyes flashed with malicious delight.

"Wha-?!" she mentally went through the conversation and saw how he came to _**that**_ erroneous conclusion, "Oh Kev, I haven't done anything with anyone," she spoke gently.

"You can tell me," he insisted, "If he's got you scared or something it's alright, I'll get him and he won't ever come near you again…It was Twinkly-shit wasn't it? He came to your house, sucked your energy, forced you to…and now he has you under some sort of threat and I'm so gonna kill that rat bastard…fuck, I'm so sorry I—"

"Kevin shut up!" she yelled and he promptly fell silent.

"I'm not pregnant Kevin; I haven't done anything with anyone and I haven't been raped. I swear Plumber's honor."

He calmed instantly. She couldn't be lying if she swore Plumber's honor.

"Trust me, if anything like that had happened you'd be the first to know; even my parents wouldn't know before you. Now find somewhere to pull over 'cause we're blocking the road way…"


	10. Chapter 10

**Part Ten: Comparing Notes**

_**Rated: T**_

He nodded, setting the weapon he held into his lap and starting up the car again, and pulled them into a forest area before shutting it off completely. She unbuckled and turned to have one leg propped up against the back of her seat, one leg hanging over and her back leaning against the door so she could face him.

"I've been doing a project for art; it's been a two-parter. The first part was to draw a stranger. I tried to draw a stranger and all I came up with was you…"

"I'm not a stranger," he protested.

She smiled sadly, "Yeah you are Kev, you're my best friend and yet all I know about you is what happened during that summer and what you do now. I don't know anything else about your past or how you've the skills you do…"

"You don't need to know."

"But I want to know…"

"No you don't, you'll never talk to me again."

"Yes I will. But we'll talk later about it okay," he nodded and she smiled, "Good, now as I was saying you were my stranger; it was simple enough. I was finished before everyone else and was given a bunch of busywork but now she set me on the second part. Apparently we're supposed to draw the theoretical offspring of ourselves and our strangers…"

He nodded, not saying anything and not looking her in the eyes, "Can I see?"

She nodded, pulling her folder for the project from her bag, opening her sketchbook to the right page and handing it to him, explaining, "It's only a rough draft; the final one'll be on a big canvas and done in oil pastels…" he didn't say anything as he stared at the black and white and messy penciled drawing, she bit her lip but continued on, "We have to draw at least one boy and one girl but they can't be younger than thirteen…"

"Why thirteen?" he grunted; his eyes still on the paper.

"By thirteen children mostly have the basic look that they'll have as adults."

"They look too much like me," he told her, although it was murmured, "not enough you."

"I thought so too but your traits are much more common than mine."

"So this's what's bothering you?"

"Yeah; stupid right?"

"Why's it bothering you?"

She turned away from him, "Just embarrassing you know? We're just friends and I'm being made to draw…" she trailed off, flushing pink.

"You're lying," he told her once again.

"You'll think I'm crazy—"

"Like I'm one to talk…"

"—Like some crazy stalker or something…"

"Tell me."

"Fine…I've been having these weird daydreams where—"

"You're pregnant with my son?" he laughed in relief at her nod, "I thought I was really losing it there!"

"You too?!" she blanched, "You been having them too?!"

"Ever since two—"

"—thirty yesterday afternoon." She completed for him ecstatically, happy she wasn't alone in going insane, "And everything in them? They felt real and you could hear, see, and smell everything too right?"

"Yeah," he nodded, taken back when she laughed happily, "I woke up from the last one and I could've sworn my hand was broken because—"

"I, dream me anyways, was squeezing it too tightly as I gave birth!" she laughed some more, exhaustion making her almost delirious with glee.

He smiled, happy to see her so happy, before frowning, "I heard him, the baby, cry and then I woke up. I didn't even get to see him, hold him…" he sounded disappointed, upset even. She stopped laughing only to smile sadly, laying her hand over his, "Me neither."

He looked up at her, surprised, and she continued, "And I felt gyped too, trust me."

He chuckled wearily, "We're quite a pair huh? Going loony together."

"We'll be roommates at the Funny Farm, deal?"

"Deal." He grinned, "Want some help on your project?"

She smiled and nodded, "Sounds great actually."

She arrived to school late but nobody really minded because it was an unusual occurrence for her.

The day went by quickly and she worked with the possible genetic combinations in her free moments, she was just using the human genes; just thinking about adding Anodite genes into the mix gave her a headache and they didn't have a clue to Kevin's alien species.

It felt as if a great weight had been lifted from her shoulders; she wasn't alone in going insane!

The final bell rang and she walked out to where he waited for her, grinning happily at his smug, satisfied smirk.

"Ben?" she asked and he shook his head, "Nope, he's spending some 'quality time' with Julie."

"You gave him the—?"

"Yeah I did; I ain't gonna babysit any possible mistakes."

"You'll guard Julie while I kill Ben for her."

"As long as you video tape it." He opened her door for her, "Mr. Smoothy's?"

"Sure," she replied as he got in on his side before abruptly asking, "Have you got a bad feeling that something will go wrong for those two?"

"I just ignore it; it's none of our business."

"You're right."

TWO HOURS LATER

"I still think green eyes," he told her.

"Do you know how relatively rare green eyes are Kev?" she asked, "Especially when one parent has a more dominant color like brown?"

"Okay; look at it this way, you have green eyes, your brother has green eyes, your father has green eyes and Verdona has green eyes; and if we want to get picky about it so does Benji; face it, they run in your family."

She chewed her eraser, mulling his words over; he was right but then again he was brown eyed.

"Unless your genes are heterozygous for brown there's no way they'd end up with my green."

"Hetero-what?"

She sighed, "Heterozygous genes mean you have one allele (one half of a gene) for one color that 'covers up' the weaker allele for a different color. Genes can either be recessive or dominant; if they're recessive that means they're relatively rare to be displayed, dominant ones are by default stronger and the one that shows up in appearance. You could be carrying the recessive allele for green eyes but it's covered up by the more dominant one for brown. The only way for a recessive trait to show through is if you have two recessive alleles for the trait and not a dominant-recessive or dominant-dominant combo. My eye color is therefore unlikely because I'm double recessive and the only way our kids, or my kids with anyone else for that matter, would get green eyes would be for you to be carrying the recessive for green eyes. Heterozygous means that there's a dominant-recessive combo in play; Homozygous dominant is when someone has double dominant alleles for the same trait and Homozygous recessive is double recessive and when someone is conceived the sorting of genes and alleles is very random and one cannot control it without an expert geneticist and some lab equipment…yes Kev?" he had had his hand up for the last minute or two.

"When's nap time?"

She rolled her eyes at him but grinned goofily all the same.

"So let's say I'm hetero-whatever for eyes, what are the chances?"

"For green…?" she did a quick Punnett square, "Fifty-fifty, unless our alien blood makes it use different rules of heredity than humans."

"So why don't you give one of them green and the other brown?"

"Fine, coin-flip for it though."

He nodded, pulling out a quarter and saying, "Heads for boy, tails for girl; sound good?"

She nodded and he tossed it, catching it and revealing, "Heads."

She labeled the eyes for color and they moved on to hair color; he threw up his hands, "Red's pretty rare too I know that so lets just say black and save the bickering."

"Right." She labeled the sketch, "I think it's done."

She reached into her bag and pulled out a small square painter's canvas which, upon her whispering a couple Latin words, grew to average size. She laid it upon the table and laid the small rough draught on it before whispering a few more words; the penciled sketch vanished from the paper and transferred in its entirety, but on a larger scale, onto the bigger surface.

"Wicked."

She reached up and plucked a hair from her friend's head, "Ow!"

"Grow up," she rolled her eyes at him, "I needed a color sample."

Touching her fingertips to the canvas colors bled out bringing the picture to life in ways Normal art couldn't.

"They look like ghosts," she murmured, putting her finger to the skin areas and darkening them up a bit as if they often ran around in the sun. With another touch she added shading to give things a three dimensional look before pausing; things still didn't feel right to her. With another touch she replaced the background and the painted children moved to fit. It was a backyard scene, the two kids relaxing under a tree.

"There, done…See…" She held up the image and he nodded, his face stoic; "I like it; they look happy. You better get an A on this or I'll be talking to that teacher…"


	11. Chapter 11

**Part Eleven: "—I Cannot Allow You To Do That."**

_**Rated: T**_

The bell had just rung and she was still pulling on her coat when he came looking for her once more.

"A plus." She told him with a proud grin. He smirked, "Good, deserved it."

"You've the matches?" she asked and he nodded, "Yeah."

"Matches?" Ms. David spoke up, alarmed. Her student nodded, "Yeah, we're gonna send it off properly."

"Why?!"

"Because this project probably damaged our sanities…we need to get rid of it, tonight."

"Can't I keep it then?"

"I'm sorry Ms. David; I cannot allow you to do that." Gwen picked up the portrait and they left, heading for the desert. They propped up the painting…

"You wanna strike it or should I?" Kevin asked her, holding the box of matches to her. She nodded, taking the box and striking a match ablaze and holding it out to the image and just as she was about to drop it to start the fire there was the roar of a portal opening and a high voice screamed, "MAMA DON'T DO THAT!" before something bowled her over, knocking the match out.

"_**Ooowww**_…" she moaned, laying flat on her face in the dirt, "Kevin, did you get the number of that truck?"

"Silly Mama," that same high voice said as the something that mowed her down stood up from her, "I'm not a truck; I'm a boy."

"Kev, call Coop, I'm hallucinating, and then burn that damned thing."

"Gwen, you ain't going nuts; there's a kid here; at least I think he's here, who knows? I may've snapped." Kevin picked her up and set her right, asking, "Do you see 'im too?"

She nodded, "Yeah, I see him too Kev."

The boy that ran her over was about half as tall as Kevin and nearly an exact duplicate except for green eyes.

"Mama, Papa," the kid voiced nervously, "Are you mad?"

"What's you're name?" Gwen asked softly, ignoring his title for her.

"Devlin, Devlin Levin; Mama don't you remember me?" he seemed to be getting upset.

"Devlin, what year is it?"

"2021."

Gwen looked to Kevin, "Houston we have a problem." She looked back to Devlin, "Sweetheart, you think its 2021, it's really 2010 here. I think you did some time-traveling by accident."

His eyes went wide, "Mama's gonna be mad! I touched her stuff, I wasn't supposed to, and now I'm here and—" he began to sniffle, "Mama are you mad at me right now?"

"No." Gwen knelt before him, "So I'm really your Mom?"

"Yeah," Devlin nodded, before pointing to Kevin, "and he's my Papa."

"O…kay; how old are you Dev?"

"Seven; almost eight. My birthday's next week."

"Okay, okay. Did we ever tell you if another you came back to visit us?"

"No." his lip began trembling, "Will I be able to go back?"

"I'm sure you will," she turned to Kevin, "I think we should wait to see if one of us shows up for him, if not we'll get Paradox to take him back."

"Worth a shot," the young man said, "Stay here or take him back to my place?"

She chewed her lip, "Your place." She looked back to the boy, "Dev, we're going back to Kevin's house for right now."

He nodded and she gave him her hand, which he latched onto, and led him to the green GTO while Kevin grabbed the reprieved painting and followed after them.

"Do you need a booster seat?" she questioned the boy who shook his head, "You say I do but Papa says I don't need one…" he looked to the car, "Where's the van?"

Kevin groaned.

"We don't use a van yet." Gwen explained. She opened the door and waited for him to scramble into the seat and then she made sure his belt was nice and securely tight. The painting went into the trunk and was probably going to stay in there for quite awhile. Devlin kept up a running commentary, telling them how much had changed between their time and his and so the two young adults began having a silent playful bicker-fest over where he got his motor mouth. As always, they blamed each other.

"And you gotta see Uncle Ben's fortress!" he exclaimed, "Kenny's room is so cool!"

"Kenny?" Gwen asked, looking at him in the rearview mirror.

"Yeah, Kenny is the son of Uncle Ben and Aunt Julie; he's eleven—" both adults groaned, having done the simple math involved, "and then there's Jun and Ryuji the twins who are six and then Hatsu, she's three…"

"They've been busy." Kevin muttered, earning an elbow to the ribs, "Ow!"

"…And then there Nissan, she's six, and Daedalus, he's four."

"Who are they? Cousins from Uncle Ken?" Gwen asked with interest.

"No," Devlin giggled with mischievous glee, "they're my sister and brother, silly! And my Mama has another baby in her stomach too! Uncle Cooper says it's a girl."

"I'm gonna kill you!" Gwen hissed to Kevin who smirked lopsidedly.

They pulled up into the driveway of a modest house, "This's your house Papa?"

"Yeah, why? Do I move?" They got out and entered the home, with Devlin taking a seat on the couch with Gwen and Kevin in a recliner.

"Our house is way, way, way bigger than this little house."

"With all those kids running around I can see why." Gwen muttered.

"And we've horses! Mine's named Alexander and he's black…I've won jousts with him. We've dogs, Alpha and Aristotle; they're big wolf-mutts but really, really, really nice and they watch Daedalus like hawks when he's outside and they keep him safe, and Nissan too! And we've got goats and birds of all sorts too…"

"We live in a zoo?" Gwen wondered softly.

"And then Papa has his tiger, Ajit, and a black panther, Anyando, and a lion, Aza, who always sleeps with each of us kids and he says he's gonna get a cheetah for the baby. They're just really big kittens."

"And how did he get these animals?"

"He saved them from the black market; a really, really, really bad man named Argit was gonna sell them off earth as food…Mama, you have an elephant! Bem; you love to go for rides on her and she's really gentle and protective of us all…Papa saved her from Argit too…"

"And where do we live?" Kevin asked with interest.

"In La Soladad; when everyone found out the truth about aliens you brought the entire desert area and used magic to fix it up and make plants grow in some places and not in others…"

"Dev," a soft female voice called out and they all turned to see an older woman with deep scarlet hair, though there were hints of white running through it, and green eyes. She was wearing a purple cloak, "time to go home."

"Mama!" he jumped up to hug her tightly and she laughed, hugging him back, "Have you been motor-mouthing them?"

"Yeah…oh oops. Grandpa Paradox will fix things right?"

She laughed again, a twinkle in her eyes as she surveyed her younger self and that of her common-law husband, "Nah, bud, I think this was supposed to happen just like this. C'mon, you gave your father quite a scare when you portalled away…"

"Sorry Mama, I broke Nissan's doll and I wanted to fix it for her…"

"It's alright." she again looked to her younger self, "Thanks for looking after him and sorry about him talking you to death…"

"No problem; may I ask a question?" her younger self replied.

"Yes I think you can…"

"When you were me, my age, did you have…?"

"Visions? Yes, those are psychic echoes from real events; they sometimes transcend time by accident; you'll both get them at times. You aren't going crazy…"

They let out sighs of relief and a watch went off, "C'm'along Dev, time to get back." She waved her hand and a portal opened, Devlin looked back and waved, "Bye Mama, bye Papa; meet cha in three years." before stepping into the portal with his mother. The portal blinked and disappeared.

"At least we have an idea of our futures?"

"Yeah."

_**THE END  
**_


End file.
